There's No Place like Home
by Iloveplotbunnies
Summary: Falling couches, hungry scarecrows, and changing outfits was not how the movie went…but it works for Patrick Jane.
1. Prologue: Over the Rainbow

**Title: **There's No Place like Home

**Rating: **T

**Disclaimer: **_The Mentalist _and _The Wizard of Oz _aren't mine.

**Summary:** Falling couches, hungry scarecrows, and changing outfits was not how the movie went…but it works for Patrick Jane.

I wrote this as a Paint It Red Secret Santa 2011 gift for Kathiann, who prompted _Wizard of Oz_, but I'm only getting around to just posting it now! This piece is something really silly that reminds me of my earlier humor pieces within the fandom, so…I hope you all will enjoy reading!

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><p><strong>Prologue: <strong>Over the Rainbow

"We've got to make a move on him now, especially if we're going to arrest him today," Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon commanded from behind the driver's seat of the state issued black SUV. She had her eyes focused on her team using the rearview mirror as Patrick Jane, who sat next to her, yawned, his own eyes trained out the window on a squirrel that sat not too far away from the vehicle. "Rigsby, Cho—take the front. Van Pelt and I will take the side."

The blonde-haired consultant waited for Lisbon to address him, while the entire team swiftly moved around to readjust their Kevlar vests and recheck their already loaded guns. Of course, they _needed _the lovely bullet-proof vests on but he was glad not to be one of them—especially, thanks to the sweltering (and very usual) heat wave that was currently being subjected upon the residents of Sacramento in the midst of December.

"Is Jane coming, boss?" Grace Van Pelt inquired, as he felt her eyes on his back making him want to turn around and flash the extremely thoughtful red-haired agent a bright smile. However, Lisbon interrupted his plans with the utterance of one sentence.

"No, he isn't." Jane glanced away from the curious brown squirrel to peer back at Lisbon with a pout. "No, Jane…we've been over this. You are a _consultant_. You do _not _have a weapon, and I refuse to have somebody watch your ass."

"When has that or one of your agents stopped me before?" he questioned her with a crooked grin. Lisbon only shook her head in response.

"Daniel Gates is a suspected arsonist. Do you get what that means?" Jane almost laughed. If Lisbon thought insulting his intelligence with her mightier than thou tone would make him stay, then she was obviously deluding herself. He wondered how she would react if he told her that but he stopped himself when she narrowed her eyes and huffed in response to his self-imposed (and reflective) silence. "He's _dangerous_. We want you _alive_, not off dead somewhere." Lisbon opened her car door before she unbuckled her seat belt. Jane was almost touched by her concern (or lack of, therefore) for him not ending up as some unidentified corpse, a victim of the latest pyro craze. "Jane, stay. Cho, Rigsby, Van Pelt—let's go."

One thing Jane couldn't understand was _why _it was such a large deal that he couldn't stand behind Lisbon, or even hide himself behind some large tree as he done many times in the past. Daniel Gates had plenty of towering, thick-trunked trees standing on his modest property that being noticed would never even happen. He was interrupted from his thoughts by the slamming of somebody's car door and he turned his head back to stare outside the passenger side window with an impish grin.

He'd count to twenty and _then _leave the vehicle!

Lisbon would be way too focused on delivering her own idea of justice (Jane scoffed. Lisbon's idea of justice to him, involved the two H's: hugs and handcuffs) to even notice that he had disobeyed her orders.

_1…_

A dog barked.

_2…_

Something buzzed by his ear.

_3, 4, 5…_

He swatted at that annoying something.

_6, 7, 8… _

He placed his hand on the door handle, when suddenly he heard gunshots in the near distance.

_19, 20…_

He threw open the door and abandoned his seat belt with a soft chuckle as he quickly crossed the empty road and found a not-too visible hiding spot, which just happened to be at the very side of the property. From around the side of the thick-trunked tree, Jane could spot Lisbon's hostile (if that was the best word for whatever was going on) exchange with Daniel, who had somehow managed to procure a shotgun.

Lisbon seemed to be trying to talk the shotgun arsonist down from doing _whatever _he was planning on doing, and though Jane couldn't hear their exchange or read their lips (as he certainly wasn't Superman), he reasoned that the irate man was either going to attempt to kill himself, especially from the way he continued to wiggle the nuzzle of the shotgun toward his face, or Daniel was going to try and shoot his own way out of an already helpless situation, which had slowly evolved to Rigsby and Cho slowly creeping up on him from the side. He pressed himself closer to the tree and braced himself for the inevitable kill shot, when he heard the soft yet distinct click of a trigger being readied, just behind his head.

"You don't want to do this, Caitlin." Jane didn't need to turn around to know that Daniel's slightly less sane girlfriend, Caitlin Winters, was the one standing behind him with a gun trained on his head. In fact, he thought with a blossoming smile, he had pegged her from the moment he had met her as being in cahoots with Daniel, particularly when he considered that the woman had exchanged heated words with all the victims before Daniel _supposedly_ burned their bodies into ashes. "Think about your future…!"

"Shut up!" Caitlin slammed the barrel of her gun into the back of his head, and he winced. "Daniel _is _my future, you dolt."

"How do you feel about getting married in an orange jumpsuit?" Jane posed innocently, as Caitlin responded by allowing him to see spots in his vision via another hard shove from her gun. He knew he shouldn't taunt the woman holding the gun, but he felt confident that Caitlin was only stressed at the very idea of her love going to prison for life. "When you met Daniel, did you know he was a psychopath? Or did you learn that much later?" He heard Caitlin say something in a foreign tongue but he couldn't tell what tongue she was speaking in—or even what she was saying.

"We're going to have a little talk with your boss." Caitlin returned in English after a few moments of silence.

"I'd rather we not," he argued, before he carefully turned his head over his right shoulder to glance the spiny brunette, who wore a sharp sneer. "My so-called "boss" has no idea that I'm out here, so spoiling my…" In a split second, he watched as she pressed the cool barrel against the temple of his forehead, making him flinch slightly—he wasn't afraid of dying, as he had said so often before, but he was afraid of the pain…and so far, this woman was causing all kinds of pain to his person.

"We are walking. You are not talking, Mr. Jane." She pulled the barrel away from his temple, and he let out the collective breath he had been holding. "Turn your head around or I will pull the trigger now." He slowly turned his head around and Caitlin returned the barrel of gun to the back of his head.

"Okay, we're going," Jane muttered, as he pulled himself from beyond his hiding spot to start toward Lisbon and Daniel, who were still engaged in conflict, with Caitlin bringing up his rear. He quickly glanced around to try and find a simple way to defuse the situation but he had a feeling that if he accidently hurt Caitlin in his attempts to either escape or defuse the situation, Daniel would pull the trigger and Lisbon (if not dead) would be _extremely _pissed with him for not obeying her orders.

"Hello Agent Lisbon," Caitlin finally greeted, with the gun _still _aimed at the back of his head. Lisbon turned slightly, while her gun was still trained on Daniel to find him. "I think I found something of yours." Lisbon grimaced while Jane tried to smile in her direction but the gun was preventing him from doing such an action. Daniel, who stood behind Lisbon with the shotgun grasped firmly in his hands, stared at Caitlin perplexed.

"Let him go, Caitlin," Lisbon demanded with her gun still aimed slightly at Caitlin. "Nobody needs to die here." Jane wondered how well reverse psychology worked when _several _guns were being pointed at you all at once but Caitlin's hold on the gun never loosened and he didn't think it bothered her too much. "If you put the gun down, we can all talk reasonably…"

"You came after my fiancé, and you had no good reason!" Caitlin threw back in response. "What makes you think I want to talk reasonably to _you _or anybody else with the Californian Bureau of Imbeciles?" Jane snorted at her creative leeway but he immediately flinched as she readjusted the pressure between his head and her gun. "You all are playing a dangerous game and I have no problems shooting him dead."

"I have a problem with you shooting me dead," Jane interjected.

"Nobody asked you," Caitlin sneered.

"It's my life," Jane replied. "Excuse me for having an opinion." He readied himself for yet another reemergence of spots in his vision from Caitlin's gun but it never came. He sighed softly. Maybe, just maybe, she was finished trying to prove something to everybody. "Besides," he continued on with a soft grin, "If there _was _a list of unreasonable reasons to come after somebody, crazy pyromaniacs wouldn't even be on that list."

Caitlin pushed him forward and he landed on his hands and knees with a soft plop. "What happens if my fingers slip and the gun goes off? Would _that _be unreasonable?" She paused, and Jane felt her foot tap his ankle. "_Would it_?"

"It depends on what your definition of unreasonable is," Jane answered calmly. "Generally, most of the population finds murder to be unreasonable, not to mention illegal and unlawful." He shrugged from the ground. "Personally, murder isn't unreasonable if you have a perfectly good reason."

"So you _do _understand that they had to die!" Caitlin exclaimed.

"I'm starting to see why," he bluffed as he began to stand on his feet again. With a careful brush of his jacket, he turned to face her. "But Agent Lisbon doesn't and if you don't tell her, she will allow her gun-toting colleagues to move in on both you _and _your charming fiancé." Jane watched Caitlin's brown eyes flicker just beyond his shoulder, probably to acknowledge both Lisbon and Daniel. "I'm sure the last thing you want to do is splatter your rainbow wind chime with any blood."

Caitlin scowled and refocused her attention on Jane. "Danae Renfrew was a self-righteous bitch and _everybody _knew it." Danae Renfew, Jane remembered briefly from one of Lisbon's many debriefing sessions, had been a twenty-something college student and the first of four victims in Daniel's ring of fire. "She _knew _I loved Daniel, and yet she messed around with him behind _my _back. Danae was such a good friend, wasn't she?" Caitlin made a sweeping motion with the gun still in her hand. "I walked in on them and she _apologized_. I was a fool and _I_ believed her. But I suppose apologies fall on the wayside when you're on your knees."

Jane chortled while Caitlin ignored him. "So yes…I hit her with a shovel." He raised his eyebrow in response to her choice in the method of death and Caitlin rushed to defend herself. "Daniel said…" She paused to bite her lip, and her attention was once again drawn to the still prone Daniel. "I mean _I _said that she was asking to be buried six-feet under and I just helped her along by filling the request."

"Did he watch you kill her?" Caitlin shook her head. "Did he make you kill her?"

"I killed her, Jonathan Thomas, Lynn Quint, and Scott Cross," Caitlin admitted, after almost a half-a-second of hesitation on her part. Jane turned around to glance at Lisbon, who seemed slightly off-put at the lone confession. _Sometimes, he_ _thought_, _things are THAT easy._

"What about the arson?" Jane asked.

"I researched condemned buildings in the Sacramento area on Google," Caitlin explained calmly, although Lisbon raised her eyebrow in his direction. He couldn't help but quirk his lips into a slight teasing smile as Caitlin continued to talk. "I brought all the bodies into the building and then I let them _burn_."

Jane shook his head and turned back to face her. "I suppose I wasn't completely wrong about you, Caitlin."

"What do you mean, Mr. Jane?" she questioned in confusion.

"You _are _involved in the murders, which I could see from our first conversation," Jane responded, which caused Caitlin to appear even more confused than she had before. "Remember when I asked you about what attracted you to Daniel?" She nodded. "What did you tell me?"

"I said his intelligence."

"_Exactly_," Jane interjected. "Even now, as you stand here and continue to pointlessly argue with me, you take the rep for all these murders that you couldn't have possibly committed on your own and yet, the _love of your life, _remains completely quiet. Tell me why Caitlin." She glanced between him and Daniel, her eyes becoming overwhelmed with tears. "Would you like me to tell you and everybody else here why, Caitlin?" She shook her head violently while he calmly continued on. "You are only a scapegoat to Daniel."

Caitlin dropped her jaw in surprise and she moved her mouth to respond—when he felt a sudden pain course through his body. The last thing he noticed was the rainbow wind chime blowing in the breeze before everything went dark.

**X.X.X**

Jane twisted away from the bright light that had begun to disturb his first peaceful sleep in a long time and allowed his nose to be comforted by the familiar aroma of his well-worn couch. He hummed contently, as he snuggled back into the warm leather, while he listened to the happy birds chirping away in some type of celebration.

He _would _have eventually fallen back to sleep, if it hadn't been for the sudden atypical thoughts about the innocent creatures that held absolutely no place of existence within the California Bureau of Investigation. His hearing the "happy birds chirping away" meant he had either gone insane (which was really unlikely—especially considering he often enjoyed prattling to Lisbon about his infallible saneness and top-shape mental health), his couch had been moved outside the Serious Crimes Bullpen (which was an even _more _ridiculous idea—that couch had ALWAYS been his—and sometimes Lisbon's—sacred fortress), or lastly, the "couch" he had snuggled up to simply wasn't his "couch."

He drew a deep breath and pressed his nose into the leather—it _smelled _like his couch: the combination of old leather, the hint of spring lilac (he blamed Grace and her perchance for purple Christmas presents), and an overwhelming scent of fake lemon aerosol that somebody had used to mask their unwarranted presence on his couch.

Jane frowned. He had never exactly been a true-blue betting man but he had his suspicions on Rigsby. _If it was Cho, he wouldn't have masked himself. Lisbon has an all-access pass to my couch, and Grace has hopefully learned her lesson from the _last _incident_, he thought smugly, _Wainwright wouldn't dare sit on my couch…so, Rigsby would be the only _logical _suspect left._

The little, or maybe even large, birds chirped away happily once more as he twisted his body around on the couch before he lifted his eyelids to find a robin blue egg sky above him, dotted with large, white fluffy clouds.

"I'm obviously not in Sacramento anymore," he murmured softly to nobody—_Sacramento is a polluted pit of despair, _he mused to himself, _this isn't my beloved smog pit of despair._—He hadn't exactly wanted to move from his familiar couch, and he _certainly _hadn't wanted to explore whatever desolate land that had presented itself to him.—_I wouldn't put this whole oddity past Lisbon_, Jane thought. _She WAS really bent out of shape about me disobeying orders earlier._ – He allowed his face to break into a large smile. "Lisbon!" There was no response. "Lisbon, I said I was sorry!"

Something, other than the still happy birds, made a noise and Jane shot off his couch. "You didn't somehow leave me on a cannibalistic island…did you?" Silence was the answer. "Lisbon! This isn't funny!"

That _something _made another noise.

Jane took a step away from his couch.

He glanced down at his brown shoes, which were surrounded by the greenest grass he had _ever _seen—_then again_, he mused to himself silently, _the perfect lawn is made of plastic._ —Then he glanced up at the completely different world from his own: his bluish-green eyes met the large green trees that towered over him, the calm crystal blue lake that sat a few paces away from him under a white bridge, and the flowers…the flowers, which were a complete cornucopia of colors and types, hung around him.

"I must be dreaming," he said firmly as he watched one of a few white swans preen on the lake. Jane pulled his eyes away to continue to glance around the wide enclosure, when he heard an unmistakable giggle from _somewhere _within the green bushes and light flowers. He spun his head around wildly to see if he could catch the pranking individual, until his eyes caught sight of a shimmering translucent rainbow bubble in the sky which seemed to be floating closer and closer toward the ground.

Jane honestly didn't know what to make of it. "Or," he started as he slowly backward his couch, while the now pink bubble hit the ground and faded into a cloud of pink sparkles. "I'm…" He paused to take in the figure that had suddenly stepped through the pink, shimmering shield. "_Lisbon_?"


	2. Chapter 1: It Really Was No Miracle

**Title: **There's No Place like Home

**Disclaimer: **Nope, not mine.

Thanks to Frogster, Wldwmn, WeBuiltThePyramids, and SteeleSimz for the lovely reviews!

So, let's continue on...shall we? :)

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><p><strong>1—<strong>It Really Was No Miracle

Jane couldn't help but stare at the pink-dress clad, tiara wearing Teresa Lisbon as she roughly lifted the silky material of her dress with her fingers and turned to narrow her green eyes on him.—_if Lisbon had _anything _to do with this couch revenge_, he thought cautiously, _she probably wouldn't be wearing the _very _same pink dress Grace had goaded her into wearing back when the red-headed agent had nearly married Craig O'Laughlin.— _

He tried not to laugh but the disapproval across Lisbon's face coupled with the white diamond tiara that remained perched across her dark hair made him chuckle.

"Looks like somebody found their tiara," Jane snidely commented.

She shook the bottom of the dress in front of him and he watched as a few sparkles flew off. "Damn it, Jane! What are you playing at?"

"I should ask you the same question, Lisbon." He stopped his laughter. "I just want to go back to _my _couch. You know, in _Sacramento_?"

Lisbon blinked. "Sacramento? What mysterious land is that?"

Jane nearly scoffed until he saw the earnest confusion bleed across her face.—_She's not joking_, _is she_?—"Where are we?" he continued on.

"The Wonderful Land of Oz, of course," Lisbon responded in a neutral tone. "Right now, you're standing in Munchkin Land." She made an arching movement with her hand and he burst out laughing.

"_The Wonderful Land of Oz_?" he managed through his laughter. "_Munchkin Land? _Oh, Lisbon! Is Bertram behind this?" Jane peered beyond her shoulder and scanned for Bertram, or even LaRouche. Lisbon seemed perplexed again and he sighed. Lisbon honestly couldn't believe that she was the _good witch _or that they were in _Munchkin Land._—_The Wizard of Oz had always been one of my wife's favorite movies, _Jane recalled silently.—"Next, you're going to tell me I killed the Wicked Witch of the East." He laughed at his own comment as Lisbon glanced over his shoulder and raised her eyebrow.

"I thought you said there were no such things as psychics, Jane," Lisbon commented as Jane turned slightly to view his couch, where he became all too aware of the pair of black and white stocking-covered legs sticking out from beneath his couch.

"My _couch _killed someone?" Jane asked incredulously. Lisbon nodded. He eyed her. "It was a _house _in the movie, Lisbon. Not a couch!" He furrowed his brows. "I've seen flying houses but _never _a flying couch."

Lisbon shrugged. "House, couch—same amount of letters. Obviously, you were on that couch of yours because the Munchkins called to tell me that it fell from the sky and landed on the Wicked Witch of the East." She stopped to eye him. "If you are a good witch or a bad witch is what they want to know."

"_They?_" Jane asked.

"Yes, _they_! The Munchkins!" Lisbon repeated and Jane stared. "They would like very much to show their glowing appreciations to you but only if you can tell them what you are."

"I'm not a witch," he stated.

"Sure, you aren't," Lisbon argued before she spoke again. "The Munchkins are happy that the Wicked Witch is dead and that she cannot terrorize them anymore."

"The _munchkins_ aren't real, Lisbon," Jane argued in return. "My couch didn't simply fall from the sky. You had Rigsby put it there."

Lisbon raised her eyebrow. "They _are _real, Jane." She glanced around. "You all can come out now, people of Munchkin Land—Jane has killed the Wicked Witch and he's an awfully harmless witch."

Jane watched in amusement as no one came through the bushes toward them. "Your so-called Munchkins," he threw with a chuckle, "aren't coming out, Lisb…" He paused, as people began to pop out from within the bushes. Their clothes were bright, mismatched and each individual wore a hat but he could recognize _each _and _every _so-called Munchkin before him; even if the people they used to be were _much _taller than the four feet they all currently stood at. He turned to glance back at Lisbon. "Aren't you supposed to sing? I'm _pretty _sure somebody is supposed to sing me a song."

Lisbon scoffed. "I'm not singing to you. You _dropped _a couch on somebody and you think you deserve an entire song? Yeah, right."

"Of course I do, Lisbon," Jane reassured her. "Dorothy got _many _songs for dropping a house from the sky. I dropped a couch and I get this trivial little welcome party." He waved his hand around before he glanced at the familiar faces—the red-headed woman who sat at the desk in front of Grace, Ron, and even the men who had taken temporary residence within the Serious Crimes Unit after Lisbon and everybody else had been temporarily suspended. "No offense to all my smaller co-workers, who of course, are…munchkins right now…but I want a song with an entire orchestra."

Lisbon stared, "Just because you just killed the Wicked Witch of the East…"

The munchkins all cheered happily.

"…what makes you think anybody will actually sing for you?" She finished with a smallish smile pressed across her lips.

"In the movie…" Jane began.

"I thought we already established this _isn't _a movie, Jane," Lisbon answered. "You _aren't _this Dorothy." She eyed him. "However, that can be changed. Trust me." He _did _trust her.

"I'm not the one in the pink dress, Lisbon," Jane returned. "I knew you'd be the good witch—sparkly tiara and all." Lisbon narrowed her eyes again, while her hand inched toward her clothed hip. "Are you the Good Witch of the NRA, instead of the North?" He snorted at his own joke, as she pulled out a tiny, silver…pencil? "You're going to report me to death? What a classy act, Lisbon."

He broke into a second smile as she twirled the item in her hand. "It's not my usual gun but it does the job." She waved her pencil and Jane felt absolutely nothing—no tingle, no pain—nothing. "If you're going to laugh at _my _ridiculous outfit, then yours will need to be _just _as ridiculous." Lisbon swept her eyes over him, and she smirked. "You're _very _welcome, Jane." He slowly glanced down at himself, and instead of seeing the familiar dark grey three-piece suit he had donned that very morning. Lisbon's "pencil" had somehow managed to make his jacket completely obsolete. His remaining clothing had been turned into a blue and white plaid mess, though she hadn't _dared _to touch his brown shoes.—_all in all_, he thought bitterly, _I'm the male version of Dorothy Gale…sans the ruby red slippers, of course._— She tilted her head to stare at him before she nodded. "Oh, I _almost _forgot something," Lisbon continued to smirk. "You need a companion for your _long _journey." She waved her pencil again as a picnic basket materialized besides him and something moved inside of it.

"Toto?" Jane questioned, as he bent over to open the lid. "My _companion _is Toto?"

"No," Lisbon stated firmly. "Your _companion _is Cranberry." The dark, furry dog popped from the basket, and looked up at them both in question—his little pink tongue lolling from his mouth.

"Cranberry?" Jane threw in disbelief. "Why not call him Blueberry?"

"That's all they had," she answered.

Jane seriously doubted that but before he had the chance to say something, or argue with the dark-haired witch again, a flare of angry red smoke burst forth from the middle of the celebrating town and all the residents' took cover by playing a healthy round of opossum, while he and Lisbon turned to stare at the Wicked Witch of the West: an emerald painted Grace Van Pelt, dressed in all black, with a broom held tightly to her chest.


	3. Chapter 2: Ding Dong The Witch is Dead

**Title: **There's No Place like Home

**Disclaimer: **Nope!

Thanks to SteeleSimz, WeBuiltThePyramids, FlavishiamXIII, and Loes-chan for the reviews!

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><p><strong>2—<strong>Ding Dong the Witch Is Dead

"I can't honestly say I'm not surprised." Jane commented to Lisbon, as Grace swept forward from the display of rose and black smoke to stare at them. "I had expected Madeleine to burst forth from the impressive special effects, not Grace." Lisbon greeted Grace with the sharp tilt of her head, as Grace's sturdy black witches' hat bobbed back in response.—_Even if Madeleine had burst forth, _he chortled silently, _I doubt I'd be able to take her seriously either._—

Grace shifted to glance at him. "Do you have a _problem _with me being the Wicked Witch of the West?"

"Not at all," Jane answered. "I just wondered why _you_, of all people I know, would be the Wicked Witch I'll have to…" He felt Lisbon elbow him, roughly and he glanced at her in surprise. "What?"

"You're on a _journey_. You're _not _supposed to go home in the very beginning." Lisbon responded in a hiss. "If you did go home, what lessons would you learn?"

He grinned at her, "I would learn the lesson that shortcuts are very effective, and that people should use them more often?"

"That _was _a rhetorical question, Jane; there will be _no _shortcuts here." He wanted to argue with her, but he quickly decided at her glare that he had better pick his battles wisely—_who knows what else she can do with that pencil-wand of hers_.—"Do you have any additional comments that you would like to make, before we continue on?"

"Why, yes I do!" Jane commented. "You changed my entire wardrobe, Lisbon; I feel that goes against my constitutional rights."

"Oh, shut up Jane." Grace threw. "You killed my sister."

"_Technically_," Jane interjected. "My couch killed your sister; I was in the wrong place at the wrong time." He shrugged at the irritated Grace, who continued to clench her broomstick tight to her chest. "I know Lisbon will point out the utter lack of importance in knowing who the Wicked Witch of the East was, but I felt I would ask you—considering you're her sister and all."

"I can't very well make accidents happen to a couch, so I'll have to come up with an _excellent _accident for you…" Grace ignored his questions—_just like the real Grace_, he amused himself.—and Lisbon turned to interrupt Grace from her accident rant.

"Aren't you forgetting the ruby red slippers?"

Jane quickly glanced down at his feet. "You're not putting those on me, Lisbon. Plaid is one thing." He sighed at the sight of his still _very _familiar brown and worn shoes on his feet. "Ruby red heels are a completely different story." Jane tilted his head back up to Grace, who held quite a temper at the disappearance of the ruby red slippers and her "sister's" legs under the couch.

"They're gone! _Gone_!" Grace shrieked, and Jane glanced at Lisbon—who also looked extremely uncomfortable with the display of emotion. Grace turned slowly to glance at them both, when her eyes went straight for his chest. "How could this be possible?" Grace moved her finger to point at his chest, and he glanced down to find that he had somehow managed to gain a bright ruby, red tie which dangled loosely upon his chest.

"Now, I _know _I'm on something." Jane muttered, as he fingered the soft red material in his hands.—_Dorothy only tapped her heels together three times and muttered "there's no place like home",_ he remembered,_ how do I activate this tie?_—"I guess I can rock a ruby tie, but it's not my style."

Grace slowly approached him and held out her hand. "Give me that back. You have absolutely no idea how to use it."

"I actually _knew _how to use the ruby red slippers," Jane pointed out. "Lisbon only changed them into a tie, so I couldn't leave without learning a life lesson." He scoffed. "I'm sure figuring out how to manipulate them won't be completely impossible." Lisbon elbowed him again. "You sure are enjoying that, aren't you?" Lisbon nodded. "I thought the Good Witch of the North was supposed to be a woman of non-violent core values and morals."

Lisbon ignored him. "You mustn't take that tie off, Jane." She advised, and he opened his mouth slightly to ask her why, when she pressed forward. "If you _do _take that tie off, I will arrest you and you'll never go home."

"I don't see why you find that funny, Lisbon." Jane pouted. "I miss _my _couch."

She gently laughed in response.

"Stay out of this, Lisbon." Grace snapped, and Lisbon raised her eyebrow in question.

"Excuse me, Grace?" Lisbon asked. "You have absolutely no power here…"

"Neither of you do." Jane pointed out. "You don't even own a pair of handcuffs here."

Both women ignored him. "…be gone, before somebody decides to drop their couch on you."

"Do you know how unlikely that is?" Jane asked.

"Fine." Grace agreed. "But, I _will _be back to get you and your pretty little dog, too! Mark my words."

Grace backed away from them both, before she completely disappeared into a cloud of smoke and Jane couldn't help but stare at Lisbon.

"That's not even _my _dog." Jane cried, while Lisbon turned to the Munchkins.

"It's all right. You all can get up now." The Munchkins slowly rose, before Lisbon turned back to Jane. "You've made quite an enemy out of her; the sooner you're out of Oz, the safer you'll be."

"If you'd just tell me how to work this tie," Jane responded. "I'd be a hundred times safer than if I actually _went _on this journey." Lisbon ignored him again.

"You'll need to see The Wizard of Oz, but no worries—he is good, if not a little frightening." Lisbon appeared in thought. "Did you bring a broomstick?"

Jane stared. "Do I _look _like I'm carrying a broomstick?"

"You'll have to walk then." Lisbon decided, dryly. "Have fun with that."

"If I _have _to take this journey; aren't you going to, at the very least, tell me how to get there?" Jane asked, and Lisbon sighed. "None of this brick looks yellow, and nobody is singing me a song heaped with directional cues."

Lisbon folded her arms. "You just follow the red brick road until you hit Emerald City."

"The _red brick _road?" Jane asked. "I thought the road was yellow."

"It was, once upon a time." Lisbon explained. "But, the Wicked Witch of the West thought red was a much better color." Jane said nothing, and she glanced down at the brick. "Well, you had best be off—remember, do _not _take off that tie. If you do, the Wicked Witch of the West will have you at her mercy." Lisbon slowly faded back into the pink bubble, and the Munchkins cheered after her.

Jane said nothing, as he started off on his journey—picnic basket and Cranberry by his side.

**X.X.X**

The fork in the road had somehow managed to brighten Jane's spirit, as he stopped to glance down at Cranberry, who he had _yet _been able to shake off.

"I _would _ask which way to go, but I know how this part of the movie goes." Jane muttered, and glanced around in the direction of the three paths. He suddenly stepped forward as Cranberry barked. "We'll go this way."

"You're making the wrong decision." Jane turned slightly toward the enclosed garden to stare at the perched scarecrow. "Most people think they should go straight, when really, they should go left." The scarecrow moved his hand to point in the direction of the left path, and Jane just _really _wanted to ignore him—but if Lisbon had been the Good Witch, and Grace had been the Bad Witch—he couldn't just leave the scarecrow to hang, especially if it was somebody he knew. "Jane, could you let me down?" Jane shrugged, and went to help the scarecrow down.

"Now, I'm sure you'll be quite fine on your own." Jane stated, as the scarecrow crashed to the ground in a heap of limbs and straw. "I've _really _got to get to the Wizard, so I can get home to Sacramento."

"You're going to visit a Wizard?" The scarecrow asked in awe, and Jane slowly turned back to stare at the scarecrow, who was stuffing himself back together. "Do you think if I came with you; he would grant me a br…?" The scarecrow, he quickly came to realize, was none other than Wayne Rigsby.

"Do _none _of you sing around here, anymore?" Jane asked, and Rigsby glanced at him.

"We're supposed to sing?"

"Well, yes." Jane answered. "You're supposed to tell me how you want a brain, through the use of music." Rigsby shook his head. "Then, I'm supposed to be persuaded enough to take you with me to the Emerald City."

Rigsby lifted himself from the ground, and stood over Jane. "I _could _sing, if you really wanted me too—but I would rather not."

"I'd rather do without the song also, really." Jane answered. "I just want to get back home, so I can have some tea." Rigsby nodded in understanding. "I suppose I should introduce you to Cranberry."

"Cranberry?" Rigsby asked.

"Cranberry is the dog I was given by the Good Witch of the North." Jane explained, as he pointed down to the small, dark dog. "She also decided to change my wardrobe, and send a Wicked Witch after me."

"Witch, huh?" Rigsby asked.—_everybody is just ignoring that Lisbon started this entire mess_, Jane thought.—"I'm not afraid of a witch. I'm not afraid of anything—except for a lighted match."

Jane shrugged—_I can't blame him there_.—as he started off in the direction where he believed Emerald City was located. Rigsby followed close behind him and Cranberry. "Suit yourself."


	4. Chapter 3: If I Only Had a Heart

**Title: **There's No Place like Home

**Disclaimer: **Yeah, I don't think so.

Thanks to SergeantFuzzyBoots, vanrigsby, Loes-chan, My Tinkering Belle, Wldwmn, Frogster, SteeleSimz, and WeBuiltThePyramids for the reviews!

* * *

><p><strong>3—<strong>If I Only Had a Heart and Courage

"I'm hungry." Rigsby told Jane, as they continued their way down the red brick road and came upon a bunch of trees, which had sprouted enough apples to feed a small army. Jane glanced at his straw companion, and cocked his eyebrow in the response to him being "hungry".—_I didn't think scarecrows could get hungry_, Jane silently mused—"I think I'll get us some apples; red delicious apples are not named simply for their colors, you know?"

Jane shook his head, and watched from afar in amusement as Rigsby tiptoed to the pair of apple trees, where he went to grab one of the apples.

"Ouch!" Rigsby cried, as the branch of the tree smacked his straw arm away. (Somehow, the scarecrow didn't seem any worse for wear.) Rigsby dropped the apple onto the ground, and Jane stepped backwards—he didn't need to have any special talents to know that an apple storm was about to befall them all.

"What do you _think _you're doing?" Jane stared at the trees without blinking, and realized that both of the trees held an odd resemblance to the faces of Bertram and LaRoche. Neither of the influential men looked _too _happy about Rigsby plucking apples from their limbs, and Jane barely managed to mask his snort of laughter into a cough.

The kind of politics both men did was like the fruit off a poisonous tree; full of worms and diseases, so it really wasn't much of a surprise that they would both be disgruntled trees.

"I was hungry!" Rigsby defended himself. "I just wanted an apple…"

"Well, scarecrow!" Bertram-tree responded. "How would you feel if I picked something off _you_?"

Jane stepped forward. "Come on, Rigsby. We'll find you something else to eat." Rigsby nodded, but the pair of trees didn't even seem _too _thrilled about that idea.

"Are you implying something about us?" LaRouche-tree asked. Jane almost listened to the Lisbon-like voice in his head telling him to play nice, but _what _good did playing nice do to a bunch of earnest trees?

"Yes, I am!" Jane answered with a bright smile. "Your apples are…" He didn't get to finish the sentence, before the pair of angry politician trees threw apples at them. "Run, Rigsby! Run!" Rigsby didn't need to be told twice to run, as they both plus the dog took off from the trees to avoid from becoming a target when Jane tumbled into something, hard and made of tin.

"I think it's a man of tin." Rigsby told Jane. "Do you think anybody's in there?"

"I'm never getting home, am I?" Jane asked, as he glanced up at the blue sky and Rigsby held out the oil can to Jane.

"You can do the honors."

Jane wearily accepted the silver oil can with a wicked smile before he decided to just squirt the tin man _everywhere_. Normally, he would have taken his time and angered the individuals around him with his avoided carefulness—but he still had no idea what Lisbon would do, especially if he refused to do everything the long way.

The tin man moved a foot, and Rigsby cried in joy. Jane continued to squirt the oil.

"Maybe he'll sing for you, Jane." Rigsby pointed out, humorously. "I've never seen a tin man before."

"Yeah?" The tin man asked, after Jane had finally managed to hit his mouth with the rather small nozzle. "I've never seen a talking scarecrow either." Jane smiled brightly at the words from the tin man, especially as the man stepped out of his hiding space and stood next to Rigsby (who still towered over him slightly).

Jane smiled brightly. "I should have known it was going to be you, Cho."

"I've been rusted solid for ages." Cho gave. "Thanks for freeing me."

"It was all Rigsby." Jane explained, with his hand aimed at the scarecrow. "I would have never found you, if it weren't for his stomach."

"Jane found me." Rigsby continued, when Cho glanced over at him. "He's going to visit a Wizard."

"A Wizard?" Cho asked.

"He wants to get back to…" Rigsby trailed off and looked to Jane for help.

"Sacramento." Jane answered. "I'm not from around here."

Cho took one look at him. "I would say you aren't."

Jane scowled. "I didn't wake up wearing this, so you know."

"I bet you didn't."

Rigsby shook his head. "Would you like to visit the Wizard with us?" Cho glanced up at the sky.

"It's supposed to rain. I'll rust."

"We'll carry the oil can." Jane offered.

Cho nodded. "I have nothing else to do, so sure. Maybe the Wizard would give me a heart."

Jane glanced at him. "You realize you have a heart, right?"

"No, I don't." Cho hit his tin arm against his hollow chest, and nothing sounded besides a loud bang. "If I had a heart, you'd hear it."

"I…" Jane shook his head.—_it's pointless to convince them, really_—he then decided to switch subjects. "I want to say that we've traveled for what feels like forever, especially with all those corn fields…" Jane paused, as something cackled from behind him. He (along with Cho and Rigsby) slowly turned to find Grace perched on top of the old house's roof.

"_Grace_?" Rigsby asked, in surprise. "You're the Wicked Witch?"

"I had the _same _reaction." Jane told him. "But alas, our Grace Van Pelt is the Wicked Witch of the West." Nobody said anything for a minute, until Cho blinked up at Grace.

"That makes no sense." Cho answered.

"Why Grace?" Rigsby asked.

Grace turned back to stare at Jane, while she ignored the small conversation between the tin man and the scarecrow. "You call _this _long? I don't think you both know the definition of long."

"You have a broom." Jane replied. "I have feet; journeys are _always _much longer on feet." Grace rolled her eyes, before she focused back on the other half of the party.

"Helping Jane along are we, my fine gentlemen?" Grace asked.

Cho glanced up at Grace. "Somebody has too."

"Well, you _should _stay away from him." Grace gave. "Or I will…" she paused, and Jane glanced at her. "…stuff a mattress with you."

Rigsby frowned. "You wouldn't do that."

"Yes, I would!" Grace responded. "Don't bet against it."

Jane snorted. "You couldn't hurt a fly."

And in his earnest surprise, a fireball flew at all three of them; Rigsby dived out of the way, as did Cho. Jane merely grinned in delight. "Oh Grace! I understand why you and…" Another fireball flew at him.

It missed, luckily and Grace vanished without another word.

Rigsby spun on Jane. "You made _Grace_ the Wicked Witch?" His small eyes narrowed, and Jane playfully pouted.

"I didn't wake up this morning and decide I was going to go on a journey, Rigsby." Jane grumbled. "I had no idea I was going to travel the Land of Oz with nothing more than you two, and a dog."

Cho glanced at Cranberry. "Why do you have a dog?"

"Lisbon."

The one word explained everything still, at least in his mind.

"I'm sure The Good Witch of the North had a reason for giving you a dog." Rigsby responded. "If she didn't, the dog wouldn't be here." Jane wanted to argue with the scarecrow, but he quickly realized that the longer they stood around—the longer it was until he could have _his _tea and _his _couch back. He shot the two a bright smile.

"Shall we continue down the red brick road?"

"We're not going to hold tight to each other, are we?" Rigsby asked, and Cho glanced at him. "I have nothing against it, but…"

"I'm fine without the touching." Cho gave. "Jane?"

"I could do with some singing."

Cho and Rigsby shared a quick glance, before both replied in unison. "No."

Jane said nothing, as the group of three plus dog continued forward.

* * *

><p>The Oz Forest, Jane realized, looked like any other dark forest; brooding trees, creepy birds, and eyes that watched you everywhere. In honesty, he had thought about passing the entire forest up—but it <em>was <em>a short cut, and he just really wanted to see who the Cowardly Lion was. Nobody said anything as they started through the forest, but Jane paused before any of them were halfway through.

"Why'd we stop?" Rigsby asked.

"I just feel that somebody needs to say it." Jane gave, but both men gave him blank stares. "Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh my."

Cho stared. "I don't think you'll find any bears or tigers in here."

"You might find a few lions, but most of them aren't exactly…" Rigsby trailed off, as he glanced around. "I really don't like this forest."

"You're _supposed _to be brave, remember." Jane pointed out. "I'm the one who cowers in fright."

"You're _not _the heroine of this tale, Jane." Cho grumbled.

"I _am _the one with the girl name; so technically, I _am _the heroine of this tale." Jane concluded. "Which means, I think we all need to say it."

Rigsby shook his head. "It might attract wild animals."

"Lions don't eat straw anyway." Cho remarked, and Rigsby shrugged.

"I'd rather not become a litter box."

Something roared from the forest trees.

"What _was _that?" Rigsby asked.

"It sounded like a large cat." Cho answered.

"I told you," Jane repeated with a smile. "Lions and Tigers and…"

_"Jane!" _Something roared from the trees, and Cho glanced at him.

"Who did you anger this time?"

"No one!" Jane defended, before he paused. "Well, I _did _anger Lisbon. I've also angered Grace, but she's the Wicked Witch of this tale."—_I can't believe I'm going along with this form of insanity_, Jane thought—"I doubt Lisbon would be hiding in the trees." Jane stepped forward, when suddenly something burst forth from the trees with a loud roar of _Jane_—everybody jumped back in surprise. "I think it's a lion."

Cho snorted. "You think?"

Jane glanced at Cho. "You're supposed to be hiding."

"Lions don't eat tin." Cho offered in explanation. "I'm safe here." It was then, that the yellow-furred creature glanced up from its prowl and stared straight at Jane—the mass of fur and the brown mane made it nearly impossible to make out any facial distinctions, but Jane soon figured that the Cowardly Lion was none other than the CBI head honcho, Luther Wainwright.

And Wainwright, much like Lisbon didn't look amused to see him.

"I never would have figured you for the Cowardly Lion, Wainwright." Jane critiqued the annoyed man. "But, you _are _the Cowardly Lion—which means, we can continue on to Oz now." Jane stepped forward when Wainwright grabbed him.

"Where do you think you're going, Jane?" Wainwright asked.

"To the Wizard, of course." Jane brightly offered and at Wainwright's odd glance, he continued. "I'm willing to let you come with us, because I'm sure your lion-y coward skills will be put to the test…" Wainwright growled. "I'm also sure you three want to be rid of me."

Wainwright nodded. "The sooner the better."

Rigsby frowned. "You're not _that _bad, Jane. Except for the witch thing."

"Witch thing?" Wainwright asked.

"It's a long story." Cho answered.

"The Good Witch of the North sent the Wicked Witch of the West after him." Rigsby explained, and Wainwright nodded. "We're going to see the Wizard, so I can get a brain…"

"…you already have that." Jane interjected.

Rigsby ignored him. "The tin man wants a heart."

"…you already have _that _also; living without a heart is impossible." Jane interrupted again. "But I can already guess our lion wants courage."

Wainwright blinked. "Actually, I just want you to leave."

"Fair enough." Jane accepted with a bright smile. "Should we leave now, so we can finish this journey before tea time?" Everybody nodded in acceptance, and they continued on without a song—to Jane's dismay.


	5. Chapter 4: the City of Emerald

**Title: **There's No Place like Home

**Disclaimer: **Nope.

Thanks to piratemonkey06, vanrigsby, Frogster, tromana, AngryLittlePrincess, Wldmnn, Aqua Mage, WeBuiltThePyramids, and SteeleSimz for the reviews. :)

* * *

><p><strong>4—<strong>the City of Emerald

Grace watched the joyous crew of the scarecrow; the tin man, the cowardly lion, and Jane stroll down the red brick road in her crystal ball, before she turned to her flying monkey pals.

"I really hate doing this to him, but well…I'm not the Wicked Witch of the West for nothing." Grace explained, as she sprinkled the concoction she had brewed over the crystal ball and waved her hand—a red poppy field appeared, and she frowned. "I can make roads red, and poppies red—but I can't make _buildings _red?" She shook her head. "I'll never understand the logic behind these things, but then again, neither will they." She nodded. "I'll then take the ruby tie from him, and I'll rule this land. Yes, I will. All three of them will be…dead?"

The flying monkey next to her jabbered excitedly.

"_I know _he killed my sister." Grace answered. "I just don't really feel like killing them all."

The flying monkey jabbered again.

"If it helps, it's a _poisonous _field of poppies."

The flying monkey continued on.

"I'm not doing this for _you_." Grace snapped, as she refocused her attention back on the crystal ball.

* * *

><p>"I'll be back to work in time for tea!" Jane clamored, excitedly as he caught sight of the Emerald City—shining in all of its glory set beyond a field of red poppies. "I'm not crazy about these flowers though."<p>

"It's a sight, isn't it?" Wainwright asked, and Jane glanced at him. "Emerald City. Not the flowers."

Rigsby nodded. "What else do you think is in there?"

"People." Cho responded, and Jane shrugged.

"I don't really know, nor do I really care. I just want to get back to _my _couch." Jane started forward into the poppies, when a sudden lethargic feeling charged through his body; he tried to mask his yawn, but something was eating up all his energy and he had to stop. "I am _not _sleeping on this ground."

"You shouldn't sleep at all," Wainwright argued. "Couch _or _ground, because this is your entirefault."

"Somehow," Jane argued. "I think you're just jealous of my couch."

Rigsby yawned, as did Cho. "I'm getting tired too."

"I think Cranberry is already passed out."

"Good!" Jane cheered, exhaustedly. "Maybe the dog will stop following me around!" He suddenly collapsed to the ground in exhaustion, and closed his eyes. "Wake me when this is all over."

* * *

><p>Grace shook her head, as she watched the group stare at Jane. "I guess I <em>should <em>go get my tie now, so go fetch me the rest of my winged monkeys."

The flying monkey jabbered excitedly, and Grace sighed.

"Good help is hard to find."

* * *

><p>"Do you think we should lift him?" Rigsby asked Cho, who seemed to be unaffected by the sleeping Jane.<p>

"I think we should leave him here." Wainwright yawned.

"He needs to get home."

"We can sneak off, before he wakes up." Wainwright argued, as he fell back into the flowers. Cho just shook his head.

"Would it be appropriate to play rock, paper, scissors to decide who carries him?" Rigsby inquired, and Cho stared.

"I'm not carrying him."

"How about him?" Rigsby aimed his hand at the lion, who continued to sleep away. "Because, I'm not carrying him." Before the two could continue to argue on who would carry who, it began to snow and Jane sat up.

"I go to sleep, and it's snowing?" Jane shook his head. "The weather here is awfully bipolar, like Lisbon after her organizing desk days."

"So are you." Wainwright snipped.

Rigsby cleared his throat, at the awkward glare pressed between lion and man. "Should we continue on?"

So, the group continued toward the Emerald City once more.

* * *

><p>"It was a <em>perfect <em>plan!" Grace muttered, as she shook her head and stared deeply into her crystal ball. "No matter; I'll just go and take care of him myself."

* * *

><p>After they had quickly managed to knock on the door, and they had been let into the Emerald City—Jane was met with the oddest sight of Walter Mashburn driving the horse of many different colors. The man had merely greeted them all with his wide smile, before he quickly asked Jane how Teresa was doing.<p>

"Oh, you know." Jane had replied. "She's busy being the Good Witch and all."

Clearly, Lisbon's infatuation with Mashburn had melted into his dreams as well—which had annoyed him to no end, but eventually Walter dropped them off at the beauty center because they had to look the best for the Wizard.

Moments of agonizing pain later (and a few bows in Wainwright's mane, which made Jane laugh)—the entire crowd within the Emerald City gaped in surprise, as they all glanced up to find that the Wicked Witch of the West had left them all a little present; a giant Red John smiley drawn with the tail of her broom. The entire room burst out into a general frenzy state of panic, as Jane did absolutely nothing but glance toward Wainwright.

"I _told _you this wasn't my fault."

Wainwright ignored Jane.

* * *

><p>The Wizard, Jane knew was a man beyond a curtain, but he couldn't exactly reveal that just yet (though he had the suspicion it was Minelli)—so he allowed the Wizard to cut down all of his companions.<p>

To Rigsby, the Wizard had commented about his scarecrow hunger issues.

To Cho, the Wizard had commented about his tin man rusting issues.

To Wainwright, the Wizard had commented that the lion couldn't lead _anything_.

But eventually, they all learned that in order to get what they all wanted—which, Jane _knew_, was him to really leave the Land of Oz—they needed the witches' broomstick named Red John.

"She named her broom after a _serial killer_?" Jane ranted, after they left the Emerald City. "Who in the world would do that?"

"The Wicked Witch of the West?" Cho offered, and Jane shook his head.

"I bet you it's her sister that my couch killed." Jane responded. "It's logic; you name your broom after a serial killer, and you _die _for owning said serial killer. Bad karma."

"There's no such thing as karma." Wainwright dissed, as they all entered the darkest forest of Oz. "You're speaking from insanity, Jane."

Jane nodded. "You're probably right." He paused. "I say we just take the shortcut, and get this journey over with." Wainwright glanced at him.

"Shortcut?"

"I'll get kidnapped, and kill the witch." Jane offered brightly, and everybody agreed that the plan seemed very logical. "Then, I'll bring back the broomstick and I'll leave."

Wainwright grinned. "Good."

Oddly enough, it didn't take _that _long for the shortcut to happen.

One of Grace's flying monkey henchmen kidnapped him, and took him (and Cranberry) to her.


	6. Chapter 5: The Demise

**Title: **There's No Place like Home

**Disclaimer: **Ha, no.

Thanks to Wldwmn, tromana, SteeleSimz, AngryLittlePrincess, Anonymous, vanrigsby, and WeBuiltThePyramids for the reviews! :D

I wish I could say I have one more chapter after this to bring you, but apparently I don't. Thank you all so much for all the kind reviews, and just allowing me to make you all laugh!

* * *

><p><strong>5—<strong>The Demise

"…you want me to give you my broom?"

Jane nodded, as Grace viewed him.

"I want to go home, and you want your slippers back." Jane offered. "We'll both be happier this way." Grace shook her head. "Why not?"

"I'm not giving up _my _broom to you."

"Not even to get your slippers back?"

She hesitated. "Not even then."

"I'll have to kill you then." Jane stated, and Grace nodded.

"I suppose you will, but good luck with that."

Grace swept from her chambers, and Jane stared after her.

"The _Wizard of Oz _didn't go like this." He muttered. "I'm supposed to be able to outsmart her, or at least manipulate her."

Cranberry barked.

"This is entirely yourfault." Jane threw at the small dog. "But since you're here, maybe Grace will take you as my bargaining chip."

Cranberry barked again, and Jane frowned.

"It'd be horrible of me to do that though." Jane glanced around the room, and quickly found something he could hold water in. "Well, I'll kill her then...but…" he paused. "How do I get the water?"—_I suppose I could jump out the windows, or even ask Grace for the water_.—he grinned. "Oh, Wicked Witch of the West! I'm thirsty."

Grace hurried back into the room. "So?"

"I'm thirsty, and I'm your prisoner." He grinned at her. "I need a drink."

She merely rolled her eyes, and left the room again—but the second time, she returned with a small silver flask. "Here. It's water."

"Oh, thanks." Jane brightly responded, as he took a small swig before he stared at the small thing of water in his hand.—_this was almost too easy._—and just tossed the water at Grace.

She screamed in agony. "I'm melting! I'm melting!"

While she screamed, Jane ran to grab at her broom and grinned.

"I'm going home!"

Cranberry barked, and Jane shook his head.

"Not you."

* * *

><p>Eventually, the group of four stood back before the Wizard.<p>

"I brought you the broom." Jane threw the broom down before his feet. "I want to go home now."

"Not so fast." The Wizard boomed, in a flash of bright colors. "How did she die?"

"I gave her a bath." Jane admitted, brightly. "I had no idea witches hated water." Jane glanced at Wainwright. "Do _you _hate water?"

"Don't you dare..." Wainwright warned.

"I wouldn't dare." Jane beamed.

"Are you two done yet?" The Wizard clamored, and they turned to refocus on the Wizard. "If so, I'm afraid that you both will have to come back tomorrow to claim your gifts. I need to think this over." Jane furrowed his brow in response.

"You promised us." Rigsby cried. "I want my brain."

"My heart." Cho added.

"And, I just want _him _to leave." Wainwright threw.

"I want to leave also." Jane argued, and the Wizard spoke again.

"I have _spoken_."

The room went dark, and Jane frowned.

"Well, I guess I'm staying."

He _could _have exposed the wizard, but seeing the crazed look on Wainwright's lion-like face was too good to pass up.

"I'll kill you, if you stay." Wainwright threatened, and Jane frowned.

"I _am _a hero, just so you know." Jane retorted. "I killed a witch. What did you three do today?"

"Make sure you didn't die." All three responded at the same time.

Jane grinned. "You all did an excellent job, but…"

Cranberry began to bark.

"What _now_?" Jane asked the dog, who had disappeared.

"Hey! Stop that!"

It was a familiar voice.

So familiar.

Jane couldn't stop his grin.

"I'm going to go see what Cranberry found."

The four approached the dog, who had a tuff of curtain in his mouth—which quickly fell to the ground, as the dog pulled backwards.

And behind the shrouded curtain, stood ex-CBI boss Virgil Minelli.

"I knew it was you." Jane grinned, and Minelli grimaced. "I'm seriously glad you cut Wainwright down. His ego was a little too large for…"

"Let's just get you home, okay?" Minelli asked. "I'm sure people miss you, _somewhere_."

"You don't?" Minelli continued to grimace, and Jane grinned. "I'm feeling the love already."

Soon enough, Lisbon reappeared—but it wasn't until _after _everybody had gathered to wish the Wizard a great goodbye.—_I suppose at this point_, Jane mused, _I'm not really caring_.—

"You mean, we've _always _had a heart, a brain, and courage?" Rigsby asked, and Jane sighed.

"I thought I told you all that."

"Yeah, well—none of us wanted to listen to you." Rigsby retorted, and Jane shook his head before he stared at the bemused Lisbon.

"So, are you going to help me or not?" Jane asked. "I've spent _way _too much time here, and clearly, I've gone insane."

"You've always had the power to go back to Sacramento, Jane." Lisbon pointed out, as the five stood next to the Wizard. "I just thought you needed to learn your lesson first, and did you?"

"…I think I learned how to kill Red John." Jane cheekily answered, and Lisbon gave a disapproving stare. "No worries, Lisbon. I know water only kills bad witches—although, Grace wasn't a bad witch."

"I think you're missing the moral of the story here." Wainwright snapped.

"Then please," Jane drawled. "Explain it to me."

"You're supposed to learn to _listen _to people." Wainwright answered. "If you had learned to listen, you wouldn't be here right now."

"Actually, I probably would still be here." Jane pointed out, and Wainwright growled. "Is kitty getting hungry?" Jane patted down his plaid pockets. "I think I've got something here for you…"

"Jane!" Lisbon hissed.

"Sorry, Lisbon." Jane tried his best to look apologetic. "I _did _learn my lesson though, and I will try to use my active listening skills more often."

Lisbon sighed. "I guess that's all I can ask for." She cleared her throat, before she slowly stepped over to him and waved her silver pencil again. The tie briefly turned into slippers, and he glared at her.

"We've had this discussion, Lisbon."

"If you _want _to get home, you should wear them."

Jane grimaced, "there has to be a different way."

"Nope." Lisbon responded, and because he just _really _wanted to get back to his couch—he put the shoes on, and clicked three times.

Nothing happened.

"You're forgetting the magic words."

"Please or thank you?" Jane asked, and Lisbon rolled her eyes.

"You _know _which magic words."

And he did.

"There's no place like home." He chanted, three times.

* * *

><p>"Do you think he'll be okay?" Rigsby asked Lisbon, as the entire team gathered near Jane's couch—were the man peacefully slept. "It's not <em>every day <em>you get hit with a window pane."

"He'll be fine." Lisbon reassured him. "His ego will be a little wounded, and I'll hurt him when he wakes up—but he'll have no lasting damage."

"That's a relief." Grace admitted, and every one glanced at her. "I _meant _the no lasting damage."

"He has a slight bump on the back of his head." Cho commented. "Wainwright felt pressed to take Jane to the hospital."

"I'd like to see Agent Wainwright make him stay." Lisbon pressed. "Jane doesn't listen to anybody, but himself." Grace glanced down at Jane and frowned. "What Van Pelt?"

"I was just thinking, boss." Grace awkwardly answered, and Lisbon nodded for her to continue. "Jane looks peaceful when he sleeps."

"…and harmless." Rigsby replied.

"About as harmless as a six-legged tarantula." Lisbon scowled, and the entire team chuckled in response. Lisbon glanced back at Jane, before she saw the slight movement under his eyelids. "I think he might actually be gaining consciousness."

Jane slowly opened his eyes to find the entire team, and smiled brightly at them all. "I just had the strangest dream."

"Did it involve me yelling at you?" Lisbon asked.

"All my dreams involve you yelling at me, Lisbon." Jane answered. "It's just our relationship." Everybody except Lisbon laughed, and Jane continued on. "I dreamt about you, and Rigsby, and Cho, and Grace…even Wainwright was there."

"You dream about Wainwright?" Grace crinkled her nose. "Why?"

"I also dreamt about Bertam and LaRouche." Lisbon frowned.

"This sounds like a nightmare."

"Oh, it wasn't." Jane reassured her brightly.

"It wasn't?" Lisbon asked, and Jane shook his head with a wince. "Oh _good _then, because you're about to get a nightmare from me."

Jane glanced at Grace. "What did I do?"

"Don't even try that, Jane." Lisbon scowled, and Jane flashed an innocent smile. "You know very well what you did."

"I wouldn't dare try it, Lisbon." He answered. "There's really no place like home."

The team only glanced at each other in confusion, and Lisbon shook her head. "I don't even _pretend _to understand you, Jane."

"It's probably safer that way." Rigsby muttered.


End file.
